Page 97 of Playing With Fire

She laughs. “Fair.”

Ten minutes later, I’m walking toward the train with an iced coffee in one hand and a bag containing a sweatshirt I absolutely didn’t need in the other.

Just another reason to love this place even more.

I put it on the second I get home. It’s oversized, ridiculously soft on the inside, and the sleeves cover half my hands.

Perfect.

Darcy watches from the bed while I turn toward the mirror.

“You’re right. I look adorable.”

He starts washing his paw.

“Jealousy isn’t attractive.”

I take a picture.

Then, without thinking too hard about why, I send it to Bishop.

Me: Found my new personality.

His answer comes a few minutes later.

Ken: You already discuss books whether people ask or not.

I gasp.

Me: Rude.

Ken: Accurate.

Me: I miss when you were in Florida.

Three dots.

Ken: What I’m hearing is that you miss me?

I smile

Me: No. I miss when you were at the other end of the country.

Ken: Liar.

My fingers stop over the screen.

It’s one word.

That’s it.

Still, a gentle warmth curls low in my stomach.

Me: How’s Boston?

Ken: Cold.

Me: You play hockey.